Fandom: Hockey

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Christophe Schubert is the master of lame lines. Dahlman must be insane.

Warnings: slash, silliness on the author's part

A/N: Well, you've made it to number 4. I'm impressed! This one features Toni Dahlman and Christophe Schubert, with a little bit of McGrattan and Bonvie thrown in for good measure. This one was also inspired by an article in the paper. You see, Dahlman was a healthy scratch during the play-offs, and the articles talked about that, complete with a little quote from Dahlman. Immediately I was like, opportunity! Then Schu just popped up and said, "Hey, give the German a little love here!" So I did, and this is it. ^-^ Hope whoever's reading this enjoys it.

Disclaimer: I in no way, shape, or form, have any association whatsoever with these players except for the fact that I like to watch them play. This story in NO way depicts anything that has happened in real life. 'Nuff said.

Why am I doing this? Toni Dahlman asked himself for what had to be the twentieth time within the past hour. It had been a moment of weakness: he’d been telling himself that for just as long as he’d been asking the question. And it had been. That still didn’t make this the best idea though.

It’d been right after practice yesterday and he’d been feeling really depressed. It wasn’t that he’d been bad during practice. No, he’d done just as well as he always did. That was the problem. What had always been sufficient before all of a sudden wasn’t anymore. It was a long fall to go from playing in the NHL to being a healthy scratch in the AHL, and he knew that he wasn’t handling it too well. No matter what the coach said, he was beginning to feel like he just wasn’t good enough, and it was hard to keep his spirits up.

It didn’t help that everyone else was so involved in the playoffs. It almost seemed like they’d forgotten about him. Rationally, of course, he knew that wasn’t true, but it certainly seemed like it. Which was why he’d been so surprised when Schubert had asked him if he wanted to hang out with him and McGrattan during Game 2. His depression had just made it seem natural to accept. Well, that and the fact that the invitation was so unexpected that he’d just froze. Then before he knew it, Schubert had him agreeing. Even now Dahlman couldn’t figure out how he’d done it. It was enough to make a guy wish he had his own private instant replay.

Most people would be asking him by now: what was so bad about this? If he was depressed and lonely, wouldn’t it be a good thing to have someone to cheer him up? The answer to that was a large and resounding ‘no!’ He didn’t want other people, especially his teammates, to see him like this any more than absolutely necessary. He didn’t want to just be some burden that constantly needed to be cheered up. He’d rather be alone and miserable than end up like that. And now he’d walked right into a situation that he desperately didn’t want to be in.

Needless to say, he’d been mentally kicking his own ass ever since. He’d considered backing out. He’d thought about just not showing up. Just as quickly as he’d thought it he’d discarded it though. He wanted to be a coward even less than he wanted to be a whiny loser. So he’d resigned himself to going.

Speaking of which...Dahlman grabbed his keys and left. Once in his car, he cranked the radio until there was no room in his head for anything else. It was with great reluctance that he got out of his car and entered the Arena.

For a moment the Arena was almost eerily silent and he wondered if the game had been cancelled and no one had bothered to tell him. Then he heard a shout and laughter from the locker room. His irrational fear disappeared, and he rolled his eyes at himself. God, he was such a drama queen. Steeling himself, he entered the room.

Bonvie was standing near the door and greeted him as he entered. "Hey, shithead."

"Yo, fuckwad," Dahlman replied.

Bonvie laughed and patted him on the shoulder. "That’s my bad-tempered boy!"

Dahlman rolled his eyes and shrugged off his hand, heading for Schubert. McGrattan was sitting next to Schu telling him something, but he broke it off when he saw Dahlman. "Hey, man! Power to the scratches!" McGrattan yelled, bouncing to his feet.

Dahlman glared at him and growled, "I’m here," in Schubert’s general direction. He looked at Schu just in time to see his eyes widen.

"Did I do something to-" He cast around for the word he was looking for.

"Piss you off?" McGrattan suggested cockily.

Schubert nodded. "What he said."

Dahlman sighed and ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "No. Sorry," he apologized grudgingly.

Schubert blinked. "Then why are you so angry?"

"I’m just annoyed with myself." McGrattan snickered, and Dahlman whirled on him. "Do you have something to say?" he demanded.

McGrattan held up his hands and took a step backward. "Whoa, man. Down. I’m gonna go talk to Alex or something. See you, Schu."

Schubert nodded and Dahlman let a menacing scowl fall over his features. Schubert looked back at him, then did a double take.

"What?" demanded Dahlman as he continued to stare.

"I am sorry. I was just amazed at your resemblance to a storm cloud."

Dahlman had to smile at that, even if it was reluctantly.

Schubert faked amazement. "And look! There is the sun!" Schubert looked triumphant as his smiled widened. "You should smile more often. You can really light up a room."

Dahlman shook his head. "That was such a pathetic line."

"Hey, I thought it was good. Considering my native language is German."

"Subtlety is lost on you, isn’t it?"

Schubert looked confused. "What are you talking about?"

"That’s exactly what I thought. You know, if the only reason you wanted me to be here was to test out your cheap pick-up lines, I could leave right now."

Schubert looked puzzled. "Say that again slower?"

"Don’t give me that bullshit. You understood me perfectly. You know what? I am out of here." Whirling, Dahlman prepared to stalk off and avoid further stupidity. A hand on his shoulder stopped him. Turning back, Dahlman glared venomously at Schubert.

"The storm cloud returns," quipped Schubert. Dahlman’s lips twitched as a smile attempted to make it s way across them. Firming his resolve, Dahlman renewed his glare. Schubert drooped a little and let his hand drop. "I am sorry. I did not intend to offend." A suitably contrite expression on his face, Schubert looked at Dahlman through lowered lashes. "Forgive me and stay?"

Dahlman drooped as well. Schubert was manipulating him! He knew it...and yet...he couldn’t say ‘no.’ Mentally kicking himself, he said, "Since I’m already here, I guess it wouldn’t hurt to stay for a while."

Schubert brightened, and Dahlman wished for an insane instant that he had sunglasses. Schubert was the one who could really light up a room.

Throughout their little drama, the rest of the team had been filing out of the locker room. Now it was just McGrattan left with the two of them. The three of them exchanged look. "So now what?" asked Dahlman.

McGrattan shrugged. "We hang out, get a little exercise in. You know."

Dahlman resisted successfully the urge to say he didn’t know, but only just.

The three of them moved off toward the weight room. Once there, Dahlman immediately claimed an exercise bike while McGrattan made a beeline to the weights. Schubert hesitated for a moment, then mounted the bike to the right of Dahlman.

"So any bets as to how badly we’re going to kick the Icecat’s asses?" McGrattan asked.

"5-0," Schubert replied.

"3-2," said Dahlman.

"And I’ll go 4-2."

Schubert shook his head. "No faith. Don’t you think Rayzor can get the shutout?"

"My bet, my guess."

"Well said, Dahlman," said McGrattan. "Mind your own business, Schu."

Schubert rolled his eyes. "Whatever. That was so silly I will not even respond."

"You just did," cracked McGrattan.

Schubert ignored him, and McGrattan grinned victoriously. Dahlman just focused on pedaling his bike. The room fell into a comfortable noise level - not silent, but nothing too much. Each of them was thinking his own thoughts, and Dahlman found he was ok with that. He didn’t feel any real need to talk. For now, he was comfortable just being. He didn’t worry about the game, about not playing. He just existed. Glancing over at Schubert revealed a distant expression on his face. Dahlman wondered what he was thinking about. It was as if he were in another world, one that no one could reach but him. Dahlman felt a sharp pang of longing. What would it take for him to get to that place too? Then McGrattan spoke, and the moment was over.

"Hey, Schu, is this going to become a permanent thing?"

Schubert blinked and like fog vanishing before a sunny day, the distance disappeared from his eyes. "Huh? What do you mean, ‘this?’ "

"I mean you and Dahlman here, moron."

"I do not even know if there is anything that could become permanent," Schubert said with a slightly wistful look in Dahlman’s direction.

"With the way everyone else has been pairing up lately? You must be kidding me."

"Everyone else is not me."

"Oh, please. The way things are going the next thing you know Ani and I are going to be getting together."

Dahlman raised his eyebrows. "Ani?"

"It is a strange habit of theirs. He calls Vermette Ani, and in return Antoine calls him Brianne."

Dahlman shook his head. "Has anyone ever told you you’re clinically insane?" Dahlman asked, addressing the question to McGrattan.

McGrattan ignored him, instead plowing ahead. "I mean, it’s not like I care or anything. I’d just like some advance warning, if you know what I mean. I mean, with Chris and Josh, it was like one day Chris didn’t exist and the next he was the only thing that existed. Giroux gave a little more warning. After all, the guy is like, incapable of subtlety. He still never told us anything though. I guess I’d just like a heads up if this is one of those things." Schubert was silent for a long moment. In fact, it dragged out long enough for McGrattan to say, "And if you even think about saying ‘what?’ after all that, I’m seriously going to kill you."

"What?" Dahlman muttered, not really trying to be annoying, but definitely unable to resist.

McGrattan growled.

"And people tell me I am immature," said Schubert with an exasperated sigh. "Both of you behave. For your question, Bri...Maybe it will be best I you will consider this your two week’s notice,"” he said, eyes fixed on Dahlman.

Dahlman blinked, consciously reminded himself to keep pedaling, and tried to process Schubert’s words. He managed the blinking quite easily. The pedaling issue was a little more difficult, but he managed to pull it off with only a slight falter. Processing though, that was an entirely different matter. Vaguely, Dahlman was aware of McGrattan and Schubert talking. Something about movies improving English vocabulary and stupid chick flicks, but that didn’t seem important. Finally Dahlman realized that trying to come to any kind of conclusion about this was really just a waste of time. That decided, he pushed the matter to the back of his mind and returned his attention to the real world.

The room had returned to its state of semi-silence while he’d been off in the world of mental turmoil. Still feeling a little shell-shocked, it took Dahlman a few minutes to notice the way that Schubert kept shooting looks at him as if he was due to explode any second. "Is something the matter?" he asked, trying his best to sound neutral.

Schubert quickly shook his head. "No. Nothing at all."

Dahlman gave him a skeptical look. "Yeah, right. How about the truth now that you’ve that lie-impulse out of your system?"

"It’s just-" Schubert hesitated, pedaling slowing slightly. "You are being very quiet."

"Yeah, well, it’s just-" Dahlman fumbled, not sure how to reply.

"Hey, I’m gonna go see how the game is going," McGrattan said abruptly, putting down his weights. "See you guys in a minute or two."

Dahlman used the distraction provided to gather his wits a little. Schubert, by contrast, seemed to get more nervous than ever at McGrattan’s exit. Dahlman considered being insulted by that, but decided to let it slide. Feeling the need to look at Schubert without craning his neck around, Dahlman stopped pedaling and turned to face the German.

"Ok, I guess the first thing to say is, well, I don’t really know what to say. You’ve caught me totally by surprise. I mean, talk about unexpected. So anything I say from this moment on is going to likely be news to me as well as you." Dahlman paused, trying to gauge what kind of effect his words were having. Unfortunately that was pretty hard to do when the person you were talking to appeared to be totally unaware of you existence. "Could you maybe look at me?" he finally asked.

Schubert stopped pedaling and slowly turned his head to meet Dahlman’s eyes. Dahlman felt a little better at the depth of sheer nervousness that he saw on Schubert’s face. It was reassuring to know that he wasn’t the only one who was unsure of himself. It also reminded him that by the grace of several years he was supposed to be the older and wiser of the two of them. Maybe it was time he started acting like it.

Straightening a little, he squared his shoulders and mentally prepared himself. Depending on which way this went, this could be a good thing or a very bad one. Then, thus prepared, he began to talk. "So, I guess now that I know where you stand I’d better return the favor. That’s where I run into difficulties. I mean, I barely even know you. Admittedly, I’m grateful to you for inviting me here. I like what I do know about you, and I think you’re damn cute."

"So now what?" Schubert asked, blushing.

Dahlman took a deep breath. "Are you busy tomorrow night?"

"Not beyond going to Worchester," said Schubert hesitantly.

"Well then, you want to go grab something to eat, catch a movie? Get to know each other a bit better?"

Schubert’s face lit up. "Yeah!" he agreed enthusiastically.

Dahlman laughed. "It’s a date then."

Schubert’s smile grew until it once again reached light-up-a-room intensity. Dahlman smiled as well, then their eyes met and they burst out laughing.

McGrattan scratched his head as he stepped back into the room. "Did I miss something?" he asked. Dahlman and Schubert just laughed harder. McGrattan just stood there for a moment, then he laughed as well. He wasn’t really quite sure why, but hey, why not? His friend was happy, and that was a good enough reason for him.

And down the hall, a custodian lifted his head from his mopping, wondering where such a bright light could be coming from.